CARA AND KANTOS
by Thuria
Summary: Cara, the daughter of Lara of Jasoom and Carthan, has conflicting feelings about Kantos Kan, whom she meets at her brother Tarin's coronation ball. When they are abducted by a radical sisterhood whose leader bears a grudge, Cara manages to escape. But what has happened to Kantos? Hoping he is still alive, she risks her life to find him.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a "stand-alone" story in the _Lara of Jasoom_ series. While it's not necessary to have read the others, it is recommended for clarity. And as I've said before, if you haven't read ERB's books, please do. There's a wondrous new world awaiting you! (The first five can be found in this section)._

Chapter 1

I had always felt safe in Kobol.

While we rode through the streets on the day of Tarin's coronation, however, I sensed something inimical – a malevolence that seemed to emanate from somewhere in the crowd like a poisonous miasma. Lara and I, who shared a strong telepathic bond, glanced at each other in concern.

We were well guarded. Several hundred of Tarin's hand-picked personal guard marched ahead, behind and abreast of us several men deep. It would take an audacious assassin with a death wish to breach that wall.

Dressed in our cumbersome ceremonial robes, the four of us rode huge white thoats, their white leather harnesses glittering with precious gems – Tarin's with rare royal rubies. Lara, Carthan and I followed my brother as he led the coronation procession from the palace to the stadium. Lined with people, often ten deep, the route wound throughout the city, giving most of its citizens an opportunity to see their new Jeddak in person. Tarin responded to their cheers, confident in the role for which he had been training in the last 18 years.

I watched him with pride.

Physically he had grown into a man to rival our father Carthan – strong, tall, athletic, and an exceptional swordsman, but it was his wisdom and diplomatic abilities that had won the hearts of Kobol's citizens. Over the past few years Carthan and Lara, as regents, had given Tarin more and more latitude – "practice" they called it - in governance and judicial duties. Of late Tarin had been presiding over disputes in the courts. His judgements, my parents agreed, were brilliant and his solutions frequently innovative.

I didn't envy my twin. He would forever be tied to those responsibilities. Never again would he be free to travel Barsoom as we used to do with Carthan on his mapping expeditions. Whenever I had commented on that loss of freedom, he would stare at me in bewilderment. "Cara," he would say, "I will have lost nothing and gained everything. I will be Jeddak of Kobol." As if that were enough.

Perhaps it was – for him.

As for me, I had no intention of remaining confined to Kobol for the rest of my life! The problem, of course, is that I am a woman. Where formerly Tarin had always been there to accompany me in our adventures, now I would be alone, and women on Barsoom do not travel the world alone.

How I longed to go to Jasoom – Earth – the planet of my birth. To see its oceans and mountains and great cities, to breathe in the oxygen-rich air, to explore its jungles, feel the hot sun on my skin . . .

But that too was impossible. Following John Carter's ill-fated journey to Jupiter decades ago, Barsoom had given up space-flight as dangerous and futile. The expenditure of materiél and labour, it was felt, could be put to better use preserving and improving our way of life.

The maroon and gold banners of Kobol flew from the ramparts of the stadium as our thoats made their ponderous way across the field where a large dais had been constructed at the far end. The platform was high enough that the four of us had merely to step onto it from the backs of our thoats, thus preserving our dignity. Lara grinned at me as she caught my mental picture of our scrambling to the ground with robes around our ears.

I rolled my eyes at her, and with as much poise as I could muster, followed my family to our carved and gilded chairs on either side of the elegant throne of Kobol. Tarin would not occupy it until he was confirmed as Jeddak.

I am not a patient person, and that ceremony seemed interminable. The coronation itself, presided over by my great-grandfather John Carter, Warlord of Mars, was mercifully brief, but it was the long, long procession of jeds and jeddaks, each of whom felt compelled to make a speech, who turned the morning into prolonged misery. Though buzzing with energy, I had to force myself to appear calm and interested. Even so, my attention tended to wander and idly I scanned the crowd. I could still sense the malignity but could not pinpoint it.

By the time the speeches were over, even our imperturbable Tarin was showing signs of fatique. To judge by the thundrous ovation when the first of the competitors entered the arena, he was far from alone.

The afternoon's entertainment consisted of a variety of physical skills, such as team sports, acrobatics, foot races and fencing. Tarin had insisted that the youth of Kobol should participate as well as the militia.

The fencing competition comprised all ages, beginning with several levels of the most adept boys, and would end with the finest swordsmen in Tarin's army.

After the youth came a women's bout. Few women on Barsoom felt any need to learn sword play – in fact, Lara and I were the only exceptions of which I was aware. However, the eight women who marched onto the field were about to prove me wrong. All of them were dressed alike in male regalia, with unadorned harnesses bristling with weapons. Their hair was cut in masculine shoulder-length bobs, and I had the impression that they thought of themselves as some sort of fighting sisterhood.

As the women lined up in a row to salute us, the eyes of one of them zeroed in on Lara and me. She was too far away for me to be certain which of us was the target, but I felt her hatred as if it were a red hot iron held to my forehead. _She _was the source of the hostility we had detected earlier. Shivers swept up my spine, and I visualized my waist length red hair standing on end.

Lara interrupted her conversation with Tarin to stare at me in amazement. "What an image! What brought that on?"

"Don't you _feel_ her? The third woman from the left."

Lara peered at the tall, muscular female, and gasped. "Danalla! I know her – she tried to kill me once."

I sniffed. "What did you do to her?"

"When she tried to strangle me I used an old Wu Shu trick to throw her across the room. I think I broke her arm. On top of that Carthan killed her brother."

Shocked, I asked, "Why?"

"Both she and Toran were hired to assassinate me. It seems they didn't approve of my Jasoomian genes. Must keep the blood pure, you know."

Lara waved one of the body guards over and quietly speaking into his ear asked him to obtain as much information as he could about the eight women.

The first elimination round began. With only eight women competing, I thought the event would be short, but the women were good. In fact they were as skilled as most of the men I had witnessed in that arena over the years.

After a long, hard-fought exchange, Danalla pricked her opponent on the arm, drawing blood and ending the fight. She won the second round as handily, and then took on the last opponent, a woman somewhat shorter and slimmer, but whose lithe body gave her a grace Danalla lacked.

Lithe body notwithstanding, Danalla ran her through within seconds. As she did so, she pivoted to face the dais, stared up at Lara, and snarled, "You're next, Lara of Jasoom – you and all your kin!" She spun about and bolted into the pits, leaving her last opponent dead on the sand. The others had already left the field.

It was the first death in that stadium since Carthan had killed the tyrant Ob Kor eighteen years before. It was also the first death I had ever witnessed.

I sprang to my feet, fumbling frantically at the fasteners of my heavy robe. Dropping the thing to the floor and clad only in a chemise, I snatched a short sword from the scabbard of a startled guard, leapt down from the dais and sprinted for the entrance to the pits. I sensed Lara and Carthan right behind me, but Tarin was being restrained by his bodyguards.

"She's mine, Cara!" Lara shouted.

_Not if I find her first_, I thought, disobedient child that I am.

But I didn't find her. No one did. She and her remaining cohorts must have planned an effective escape route through the maze of cells, corrals and tunnels below the stadium seats, and somehow managed to disappear without a trace. The guard who was sent to learn more about the women returned with little information except their names and that they were panthans – an unheard of occupation for women. Danalla's name was not among them.

Lara tells me that if such an event had occurred on old Earth, Tarin's reign might have been considered cursed with bad luck. Not so on Barsoom. In fact, many of the old-guard warriors, who missed the days of duels to the death, felt the swordwoman's death was a good omen.

It's all nonsense to me. I am not superstitious. A murder is a murder no matter where or when or how it occurs. That Danalla would kill one of her own comrades was an act of treachery I could not fathom. The fact that it happened within ads of me and I could do nothing to prevent it, offended my sense of fair play.

I vowed that one day I would find Danalla and we'd see who would be "next"!


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Music and rhythm seem to have been bred into our genes, whether we are from Earth or from Mars. Lara tells me that few of John Carter's narratives contained references to music of any kind – which is logical, I suppose, because his interests lie in warfare and not the arts.

The only music I knew from my six years in Moon Valley was that which Lara sang while accompanying herself on her lyre. Those memorable Earthly tunes on which I cut my teeth, so to speak, will remain entrenched in my soul all my life.

Sadly, there is no beauty in the music of Kobol. It has no real melody, being played chiefly on drum, cymbal and swords in varying and discordant combinations. Yes, _swords!_ With warfare a way of life, it seems inevitable that Barsoomian music should be based on marching feet and the clashing of weapons. The result is an ear-splitting mix of percussion instruments that, Lara tells me, nearly drove her mad when she first heard it.

Subtly, slowly, over the years she has introduced some of her martial tunes into the music played in the palace. She designed a type of harp which evolved over time into something compatible with conventional percussion instruments. One or two daring court musicians, seeking innovation, re-wrote some of the marches Lara had brought from Earth.

As I entered the ballroom that evening the result of their efforts was playing relatively quietly in the background – I think it was based on "Men of Harlech", one of my favourites. I wandered into the ballroom humming, and noticed a few masculine eyes following me. Amused, I recalled that Lara had declared my jade-green gown and contrasting red hair were more appropriate for a Christmas celebration on Earth – except that the transparency of the gown might not have met Earthly standards of decency!

With all the speechmaking having been dispensed with earlier in the day, the Jeddak's ball was free of formality. Having been raised in a royal household, I was not intimidated by the many jeds and jeddaks present. They were, to me, an interesting, sometimes boring, and occasionally fascinating cross section of Martian males.

Tarin, occupied with politely fending off an importunate young lady, grinned at me wryly when I caught his eye and winked at him. I had warned him that the assaults upon his bachelorhood would become increasingly aggressive now that he was Jeddak.

My great-grandfathers, John Carter and Mors Kajak, and his father, the great Tardos Mors, all of whom were the most prestigious men present, stood in a group near one corner of the room deep in discussion.

"Solving the world's problems again?" I asked as I approached them, immediately walking into the arms of Tardos Mors for a filial embrace. He was the eldest of them by three or four centuries, and though his body still appeared to be in its prime, his face showed his years with a multitude of fine lines.

"Indeed, child," he chuckled, wrapping his long arms about me. "How lovely you look this evening."

Fully aware that the Warlord should have taken precedence over the others, I deliberately hugged Mors Kajak, Dejah Thoris's father. "My greetings, grandsire," I said.

Mors Kajak grinned in delight at my intransigence.

I then moved to stand in front of John Carter, my hands behind my back. "Good evening, Grandpa Jack," I said contritely, in English.

The twinkle in his grey eyes belied his feigned disapproval. "Impertinent Imp," he muttered in his Virginian drawl, shaking his head and holding out his arms.

I laid my head on his shoulder. "I missed you."

"As I miss you always, carrot top." He held me away from him, his eyes narrowing. "Whatever it is you're planning, be careful."

My childhood mischievousness was a standing joke between us. I threw him a brilliant smile, wondering if he really had sensed something. He did possess some telepathic ability and was uncomfortably close to the truth.

"I promise," I said, and then looked inquiringly at a man looking on at Jack's side.

"Cara," Jack said, "I believe you have met Kantos Kan."

I studied Jack's great friend with frank curiosity – a scrutiny he withstood with aplomb and returned in kind. One of Barsoom's most illustrious – and deadliest – warriors, he radiated confidence and an undeniable magnetism. A few inches taller than I, he had a powerful athletic build, a once-handsome face which now displayed the scars of countless battles, and a wonderful smile. However, the deep lines between his eyes were a stark indicator of the ravages of sights no man should ever see.

Quietly dressed in a dark blue formal tunic, he wore a plain harness which displayed only his personal insignia. When the thought occurred to me that he probably would have been unable to stand up under the weight of his decorations, he sniffed in amusement. I blinked in alarm. Had he _read_ that? I was unaccustomed to any but my family detecting my thoughts.

I held out my right hand, palm toward him in the manner that members of the opposite sex greet each other. "Of course we've met," I answered, "but only once or twice. You always seem to be manning the battlements of Helium when John Carter comes to Kobol."

Kantos Kan laughed. "True enough, Princess, but this time the battlements will have to manage on their own. It's a delight to meet you again."

Instead of raising his palm to match mine, he curled my fingers over his with his thumb and brushed my hand with his lips. Something like an electrical chargepassed between us when he touched me and it shook me to my toes.

I caught my breath when his startled eyes flew upward to meet mine.

_No! _ I thought. _Ridiculous! It doesn't happen in a blink! _

Chiding myself for being delusional, I gathered in my scattered wits, searched for something intelligent to say, and smiled at him. "I think Lara has concocted something exotic to drink. Would you care to experiment?"

He bowed his head in assent, his warrior's braid falling forward over his shoulder, and we set out across the ballroom, being careful not to touch.

When we were far enough from the others not to be overheard, he said, "That was . . . extraordinary. And you felt it too." It was not a question.

I lost whatever composure I had gained. The obvious reply would have been _What do you mean_? but I had never learned to dissemble.

I nodded slowly. "I've never experienced its like . . . "

"Nor have I," he said, and I missed a step in astonishment. This man was a century older than I. His charisma surely had attracted scores of women over the years, including my own mother. How could he not have felt something in return?

I said bluntly, "I don't believe you."

"Unsurprising," he said wryly.

Shocked, I stopped abruptly to face him. "You read my thoughts!"

"I did – though I've always believed my ability was minor," he admitted. "But then you made no effort to hide them either."

"I've never had to," I whispered, appalled. "My mother is the only one who can read me like that . . . "

"Until now."

I became aware that the two of us must have been an arresting sight where we stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other wordlessly. In response to _that_ thought, Kantos Kan took my arm and gently propelled me toward the terrace.

With his touch producing unsettling sensations, we walked out into the night garden, with its great pimalia blooms fluorescing in the light of both swift Thuria and lazy Cluros.

I knew so little about this man – only that he had always been at John Carter's side as warrior, advisor and confidant almost from the moment Jack had arrived on Mars. They had saved each other's lives countless times. Though Lara accuses me of being fearless, I was intimidated by Kantos Kan's maturity and long experience and It was all I could do to appear calm.

Still – unable to repress my curiosity and forgetting the niceties of Martian etiquette – I felt compelled to ask, "Have you never been wed?"

"Only to my lady sword."

"All your life?"

"My life so far."

"It seems a bleak life, then, with no joy save battle."

He stopped walking and turned toward me. "Do not mistake me, Cara. There have been many brief – " he shrugged " –_interludes_ apart from battle. I even have a son. For some men it is enough."

"Is it enough for you?" I asked, then wished I had not. _Too personal Cara!_

"It has been until now, Princess," he murmured. "I had not known that I was capable of such a - sharing of minds. It is quite, quite intoxicating."

He moved closer. _Much_ closer. His hands held my shoulders, and his brown eyes, now black in the moon shadows, searched mine for permission. When I didn't back away, he bent toward me, tipped his head and explored my lips with his.

Oh my.

As a highly eligible princess, I had been kissed before by suitors of all ranks, but never like that. Another woman in my place might have assumed that Kantos Kan was trifling with her, but not I. With our thoughts mingled at that moment, I _knew _his passion was real. But how could that be? My doubt, however, didn't stop me from enjoying the moment!

I felt the strength of his arms as he drew me close. I'm not sure I could have broken that hold, even if I'd wanted to. My hands moved up his chest to his ravaged face, where they lingered for a moment before being lured into his hair. I moved my body closer to his and . .

The garden was suddenly filled with silent black-clad figures, their swords flashing dimly in the light of the two moons.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Kantos Kan, otherwise unarmed, drew his ceremonial sword, his curses proclaiming its utter inadequacy. He tried to push me aside to protect me, but he did not know I needed no protection. I had no sword, nor any weapon on my person. All I needed were my hands and feet. Wu Shu is not merely defensive, it is also Earth's deadliest form of unarmed combat and I had been my mother's most adept pupil.

I sensed Kantos Kan was distracted by my presence at his side. "Attend to your own defense – I'll be fine!" I shouted. By twisting the arm of my attacker until he bent double in pain, I struck a pressure point behind his ear with the edge of my hand. He collapsed, unconscious.

Kantos Kan must have been watching, for he exclaimed, "Great Mother Issus!" Freed of further worry about me, he then concentrated on dispatching his own opponent.

But, as Lara keeps reminding me, assassins have no honour. When they understood they themselves were in peril, our attackers changed their tactics. Two of them charged Kantos Kan simultaneously while a third he did not see crept up on him from behind. I screamed a warning at him just as two more advanced on me, swords at the ready. I whirled and kicked both swords from their hands, and then leapt high in the light gravity, driving my heels into their temples in rapid succession. They fell like stones.

Landing in a crouch, I snapped a quick look at Kantos Kan, who was hard-pressed. I could do nothing to help him as two more of them came at me. I snatched up one of the swords that lay almost at my feet from my last encounter. My new attackers were more cautious, but to their surprise I charged them both, my sword plucking their weapons from their hands one after the other. Mouths agape, they ran from me.

Fighting for his life facing three assailants at once, Kantos Kan's singing sword swept about him in lethal arcs, dealing havoc among the men opposing him.

. . . Except they weren't men.

I now recognized one or two of the faces of the women who had fought with Danalla in the arena and ran to help him. I had just gained the attention of one of them when Kantos Kan gave a hoarse cry and fell heavily. Even as his body struck the ground, more attackers rushed at me from the shubbery. I fought like a cornered banth, inflicting considerable damage to judge by the sound of breaking bones and screams. More of them converged on me and at length enough of them grabbed my flailing arms and legs to immobilize me, while six more picked up Kantos Kan.

An ancient enclosed cargo flyer lay in a far corner of the garden. We were bundled into it roughly, and several women kept us closely guarded. Others began to return with the wounded.

Kantos Kan, a dark mound in the dim hold, lay very still, but whether he was dead or unconscious I could not tell. While the women guarding me gloated over their accomplishments, I listened very carefully and concentrated on following their thoughts. Altogether I estimated there were twenty of them.

When the last of the injured had been loaded someone shouted, "Go!" and the flyer's ailing engines lifted it laboriously under the weight of too many people. My guards relaxed.

A mistake.

With a few well aimed blows, I freed myself from grasping hands and dived through the still-open door to the ground a hundred feet below.

Such a leap would have been suicidal on Earth, but for me, in Mars' lighter gravity, it was only a hard fall that I mitigated by rolling as I landed. Uninjured – though I knew I'd feel the bruises in the morning – I sprang to my feet and sprinted toward the palace. A glance over my shoulder showed the flyer still on its course for the south. No doubt those in charge did not wish to take a chance on another confrontation.

When I attained the darkness among the trees, I stumbled over something and, thinking it was a body, stopped to investigate. Groping around, I encountered a sword and, close by, another curiously shaped object which I was unable to identify. Picking it up, I carried it to the terrace where the light from the ballroom revealed, to my horror, that it was Kantos Kan's brawny right arm, sliced off cleanly just below the elbow. The wide gold bracelet of a jed still lay snug around the wrist.

Wrapping one of the panels of my gown around the arm and cradling it as I would a baby, I ran into the ballroom Those standing nearest exclaimed at my wild hair, dishevelled appearance and the blood from the severed limb which was oozing into my clothing.

"Vad Varo," I murmured, my thoughts crystallizing as I moved into the ballroom. I began to search the crowd, and said more loudly, "I need Vad Varo!" I knew he was there – I had seen him earlier.

"Here," said a voice from across the room. I heard the sound of running feet.

Ulysses Paxton of Earth – Vad Varo the surgeon on Barsoom – reached me, his fair-skinned face filled with concern.

"Cara! You're hurt . . .!"

I interrupted in English – my appearance alone was horrifying enough without the addition of what I was about to say. "It's Kantos Kan's arm. Can you perserve it until I bring him back?"

His eyes widened. "Good Lord," he whispered. "I'll certainly try. What happened to him?"

'Abducted."

"And you're going after him," as if to say W_hat else would a descendant of John Carter do? _

"_Now_," I said flatly. It was part answer, part order.

"Let me take it," he said, stepping forward.

I shook my head. Nothing on Earth – or Mars – could have removed that arm from my possession at that moment.

Vad Varo knew it too, turned abruptly, and said, "Then follow me. I have preservative in my med kit. There's no time to lose . . ."

Of the three other English-speakers present, Lara was the only one who had overheard us. She trailed in silence as I followed Vad Varo up two or three ramps to the guest quarters. Once in his suite, Vad Varo ran to his medical kit and pulled several items from it – two vials of clear fluid, a complicated miniaturized suction pump, and a dense airtight sheet. Gingerly unwrapping the arm from my gown, he laid it on the sheet and inspected it closely. The raw end of the limb was the only injury.

"How long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"Less than twenty minutes."

He nodded. "Good. We can save it." He cleaned the open wound, attached the pump to several veins and arteries and suctioned out what little remained of the blood. He then reversed the flow on the suction machine to inject the clear fluid, massaging the limb until he was certain all the veins and arteries were filled. He then sealed the raw wound with a quick-drying transparent liquid, and wrapped the limb tightly in the sheet, being careful to seal all the edges.

Picking up the arm, he looked at us. "Where is the cold room?"

I said, "Beneath the kitchens." I took the limb from him and hurried out the door. Neither he nor Lara, who had not yet said a word, followed.

The huge cold room, which lay several levels below the palace, had been hollowed deep out of ground where the permafrost never melted. I tucked the wrapped arm into a far corner of a high shelf. Moving several dusty containers to conceal it, I stood back to memorize the arm's position. _Someday soon, Kantos Kan_, I vowed, _you will use it again._

The adrenaline that had kept me going since the fight in the garden, drained away during the long climb back up to my rooms. Lara was waiting for me, having thoughtfully filled the tub. Shaking with fatique, I removed my filthy and bloody clothing and sank into the hot water gratefully, ignoring the stings from numerous cuts and bruises.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, she listened while I related the events that swirled repeatedly through my head. She read far more from my mind than my jumbled description conveyed.

"Kantos Kan, eh?" She smiled dreamily, and sighed. "Lucky you. Such a lovely man."

I thought she was teasing and frowned at her. "Lara, he's _Kantos_ _Kan! _I've been in awe of him all my life."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Cara, have you ever wondered why he has never had a mate?"

I stared at her. "Never?"

"Well," she said, "admittedly he has a son, but to my knowledge he's never had a life-mate."

"What of the mother of his son?"

She smiled. "Since he has never told anyone who she was, It was probably a warrior's fling. Personally, I think he has never found a woman his equal."

I sniffed. "_I'm_ certainly not his equal."

"No? You are the daughter of generations of jeddaks. The granddaughter of John Carter! You're bright and educated – if somewhat impulsive – and possess capabilities few women dream of. Why not?"

Why not indeed? I shook my head, unable to answer.

"Is it the age difference?" she asked.

"Age difference?" I asked, puzzled. Lara was much older than Carthan. Thuvia considerably older than Carthoris. "What does that have to do with it?"

She nodded her head sagely and I wondered why she smiled. "True. Then what _is_ the problem?"

"I'm not – " _in love_? " – it can't happen that fast!" _And how could such a man love_ me_ . . .?_

"No? Cara, my dear, you know that mind melding leaves no doubt. I defy you to try _not_ thinking about him."

"I don't have time. I have to find him."

Managing not to roll her eyes, she gave up and smiled indulgently. "Of course you do. Where will you look?"

"I overheard the women talking about some jeddara and their destination."

"Women?" she asked sharply.

I nodded. "They were all women. I recognized some of them from that group in the arena. As Kantos Kan and I stood on the terrace with the light illuminating my red hair, I think they mistook us for you and Carthan. Though I didn't see her, I believe Danalla was the instigator and that she was following through on her threat to kill you."

I climbed out of the tub while Lara passed me a towel. Patting myself gingerly, I said, "Lara, do you remember Korad, that abandoned city on the shore of Throxeus?"

"Of course. It was one of many old port cities we all explored with Carthan when he was developing his map of ancient Barsoom. Why?"

"Before I jumped from the flyer, the name came up when the women who attacked us were boasting about our capture. One of them said, 'The jeddara of Korad will be pleased.'"

"But Korad has been abandoned for millennia."

I shrugged, "Isn't it possible that it has been occupied again?"

Lara said dubiously, "I suppose so, but it would be an impractical place to live. Think of the work just to make it habitable – and it's so far from . . _. anywhere_."

I looked at my mother. "I need its coordinates."

"I'm coming with you."

"Carthan would never let you go without him – and then we would be required to include Tarin, Jack, Tardos Mors and half of Barsoom's armies."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"I have a strong feeling that a woman could do this best alone."

She looked at me with deep skepticism and said, "You'll have to convince me of that." She began to apply ointment to the worst of my cuts and scratches and then persuaded me that the world would make more sense if I got some sleep.

If anything, when I arose before dawn, my world made less sense than ever, but nothing had altered my determination. Now I had two objectives: to find Kantos Kan, and to eliminate the woman who had threatened my family. _All the better that they can be found in the same location_, I thought, as I searched for my shears.

The floor was carpeted with clouds of shorn red hair and I had just wrapped a towel around my wet head when Lara walked in.

"Omigod Cara!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed at the sight. "What have you done?"

I turned to face her. "Give your greeting to Barsoom's newest female panthan," I said, snatching the towel away to reveal a shoulder length bob of straight black hair.

She sat abruptly. "So that's how you're going to do it – join the Sisterhood."

Since that was self-evident, I only said, "Will you help me dye my skin?"

However reluctant she might have been Lara made a thorough job of it, all the while humming a melody I couldn't quite identify. As I stood before a mirror inspecting my naked body – now indistinguishable from that of a native-born Barsoomian woman – I had the oddest notion that my own identity had been obliterated.

"I'll need a name," I said feeling disconnected from reality.

"It should be something similar to your own." She thought for a moment. "Dara, Fara, Mara, Sara . . ."

I laughed. "How very Jasoomian!"

She sniffed. "Helium doesn't have an alphabet."

"Hmm," I said, considering. "I like Dara."

And Dara I was as I carried my pack surreptitiously to the roof hangar. Lara had distracted the guard with a trivial task so that he wouldn't see me. She would tell him after I left in my flyer that I was going to visit Tara in Gathol.

I turned to her after tossing my bag into the flyer. "What have you told Carthan and Tarin – and Jack? They must have been aware of the commotion last night."

"I told them you had tripped and injured yourself. It did look as if you were holding your arm – even if it wasn't yours!" She shuddered. "God, Cara, I don't know how you remained so calm."

"Believe me, I wasn't calm at all. How will you explain my absence?"

She shrugged. "You became bored, or wished to escape your suitors. You've done that often enough!"

I nodded with a grin. We hugged fiercely, realizing it could even be for the last time.

Lara said, "If you're not back in ten days, I'm bringing 'all the armies of Barsoom' after you."

"Thirty days," I said.

"Twenty, then. Oh have a care, my daughter. I want to see you again, preferably accompanied by your soul mate."

"Wh-who?" I said stupidly, stunned by a phrase that had never before applied to _me_.

She laughed and kissed me. "Kantos, silly. Bring him home safely."

I noticed he had graduated to a first-name basis.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A million years ago the land below my flyer would have been submerged in a shallow sea, known to modern Barsoomians as Throxeus. Now it was covered with the ubiquitous ochre moss of Barsoom's wastelands, with only here and there isolated oases of mantalia indicating the presence of water deep below ground. I passed the time studying the charts Lara had given me. My flight line, if it had continued onward toward the south, would eventually have intersected Tjanath – which is now friendly – or Ghasta and Bantoom, two places I would rather avoid!

Several hours into my flight, I slowed down. Lying some 1500 miles south of Kobol the ancient city of Korad, once a busy harbour, lay on the shore of Throxeus. Now crumbling back into the earth from which it came, it was not easy to spot in the middle of what was now desert.

But there it was – its ruined towers toppled, its walls breached and battered by globe-spanning storms and ancient wars. I couldn't imagine how anyone thought the place could be habitable.

I landed about a haad from the city in a sparce mantalia grove. Quite certain the flyer could not be seen, I waited there until nightfall. Just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon of the sea bed, I set out for the city. With both moons in the sky at least for another hour I was able to make good time. I had chosen a deep breach in the wall to make my entrance, but it was more difficult than I had anticipated as I struggled over and around the massive tumbled blocks. Eventually I stood within the city walls.

I knew the old city very well indeed. Carthan, Lara, Tarin and I had spent half a year there studying its pictorial history painted on huge murals inside many of its public buildings. It was a fascinating summer which had given me a taste for archaeology.

Tarin and I had also found the haunts of the pack of ulsios that dwelled in the pits below its buildings, and of their terrifying predators, the Great White Apes who lived in the towers. Lara and Carthan still remain ignorant of several close calls that my brother and I managed to conceal from them . . .

I was fairly certain that anyone claiming to be a jeddara would choose to live in a palace where possible, and in the case of Korad it would be the best of a bad lot. Located in the city's geographic centre, the palace was massively built and, for its age, remarkably well preserved. It had been the focus of Carthan's explorations because of its particularly skilled and graphic art work.

I sped on silent feet through the familiar streets until reaching the central square. One of the buildings facing the square opposite the palace, had once beene several storeys high. Now it was reduced to three – and was only accessible from the second floor. When we had first arrived, the four of us had evicted a family of apes that lived in the building, claimed it for ourselves, and then sealed every entrance on the ground floor to ensure our sole possession.

I leapt up to a second floor window and climbed the ramp to the third floor where we had lived for months. A few pieces of furniture were all that were left of our presence all those years ago and I tossed my pack onto the crude table. Thankfully, there was no sign of ape footprints in the accumulated dust. From the window I had a panoramic view of the palace and the square, but there was no sign of activity. I rolled myself in my bedding and fell asleep just as Cluros set.

The clashing of swords woke me with a start. It was just after sunrise and as I peeked out the window I smiled. Whatever else she might be, the jeddara was a disciplinarian. About 30 women, most of them inexperienced, were swinging, hacking and stabbing at each other with practice swords. Shaking my head and wondering why any woman would leave her home and country to take up such a life, I turned away to rummage through my pack for breakfast.

As the morning passed, two more groups of thirty followed the first, each more adept than the last. The last group appeared to be the jeddara's elite, and I noticed that many of them were favouring painful injuries and sporting colourful bruises. I grinned, accepting half the responsibility. Kantos could claim the rest.

It appeared then that the jeddara's militia numbered around a hundred. More than sufficient, I decided, to kill my parents in their bed!

The rest of that day passed without incident. On the following day, however, a flyer landed in the plaza. As a group of about fifteen women disembarked, I noted the motley variety of clothing they wore. New recruits! They were the answer to my problem: how to infiltrate the palace without being noticed.

With that one look, I grabbed my pack and bedroll and sprinted down the ramp. I leapt through a window at the back of the building and then, rounding the building much more sedately, joined the stragglers of the group as they walked into the palace carrying bags and cases of their personal possessions.

I was dressed in leather tights and tunic – a practical fashion I had copied from Lara for Carthan's explorations and which was sufficiently outlandish to identify me as a rebel. As long as I proved myself in weaponry, I saw no reason why anyone should be suspicious. I hoped this group was sufficiently unacquainted with each other to realize I had not been with them all along

We were led to an enormous space that Carthan had identified as the throne room, judging by what was left of the magnificent paintings that once covered its huge walls. If there had been a dais, it had long since disintegrated. Devoid of furniture when my family was there, the room now contained perhaps fifty mismatched benches and stools, with a small podium on top of a crude platform at one end, all clearly having been brought to Korad recently. .

A few of the recruits looked at me in puzzlement as we took our seats, but seemed doubtful enough not to question me.

We had waited perhaps half an hour, when a black-clad woman entered and shouted, "The Jeddara comes! All stand!"

We stood while a tall woman entered, accompanied by six guards. Dressed in the same black uniform as her guards, she stepped up onto the stage and approached the podium. I knew her instantly.

Danalla!

I nearly laughed aloud, muffling the sound with a cough barely in time. The woman was a professional assassin. How dare she claim a rank of privilege!

Flabbergasted by her gall, I missed her first few words.

". . . and when you qualify as full citizens of our growing community, you will be expected to participate in every aspect of its maintenance –" (_sweep the floors, cook the food_, I thought in amusement, possessing no aptitude for either) – "and when we feel you are ready you will join us in our Great Purpose – to rid Barsoom of the Jasoomian Threat forever!"

Danalla threw a fist into the air with each name she shouted, "We will begin with the witch _Lara_ and her unnatural _twins_! And then _Carthan_! Then _Vad Varo, Carthoris _and_ Tara!_ And finally the tyrant himself, _John Carter_!"

The recruits cheered after every name. The unnatural twin refrained..

Danalla, the _jeddara,_ was completely demented.

But, as the cliché says, there is method in madness. As I would discover, Danalla was a good leader. Like all dictators, she possessed charisma – a way with women in particular – that inspired belief in her ridiculous cause, and created obedience and loyalty in the process.

Somehow I had to overthrow this maniac.

And I had to find Kantos.

From the throne room, we were led to our quarters, three flights up to what might once have been a luxurious suite of rooms, but now contained one-person sleeping platforms where silks and furs lay neatly folded on each. I took possession of a bed close to the door and stowed my pack in a wall niche above it. I didn't know how much liberty I was allowed, but set out instantly to search for Kantos Kan. Thinking he might have been imprisoned in the tower, which, when we had been there had been relatively whole. I climbed the ramp only to find the tower broken and open to space.

I walked slowly back down the ramp and along gloomy corridors, searching. I found him on the ground floor in a hallway near the kitchens. I suppose it was as far as his captors had been able to carry his heavy unconscious body.

In full view of everyone passing, he was imprisoned in a cage barely large enough for him to stand or lie in. He appeared to be deeply asleep – or unconscious. His elegant dress uniform was filthy and stiff with dried blood and from the amount, it appeared that someone had used it to stanch the initial flow of blood from the amputation. To my horror, I saw the terrible wound had not been otherwise treated – after four days! A closer look showed it was turning septic.

Enraged and terrified at the same time I stood abruptly, looking for someone - _anyone _in authority! I hurried to the throne room and charged through the empty doorway – the doors themselves having disintegrated millennia since.

"What are you doing here, recruit?" a harsh voice said from behind me.

I swung around to confront the stern face of one of the recruiting officer I had followed with the recruits. I wanted to hit her. Vibrating with the effort of restraining my fury, I said, "Why has the prisoner not been attended to?"

She shrugged. "Our own people are treated first. There were many wounded."

"Why is he a prisoner?" I demanded. "Do you not recruit men?"

She gave a lascivious smile. "We are an army of women – of course we 'recruit' men. How else will we increase our numbers?" She sneered. "He was pretending to be Carthan. We didn't find out until the Jeddara saw him when we returned home."

I bit my tongue. _Pretending to be Carthan_, indeed! I said through my teeth, "He appears to be as fully Barsoomian as you or I and won't be any use to you if he dies. Will you allow me to treat him? His wound is infected."

"Is it," she said with little interest.

I said, "The Jeddara might not be pleased if the man dies from lack of proper treatment."

She looked at me sourly. "Very well. Come with me. I will give you medical supplies."

When she tried to stint on bandages and ointment, I pointed out that even a one-armed man could father children! With a little more interest, she searched out scissors, knife, and a needle and thread.

Armed with a basin of boiled water and a large jar of disinfectant, I all but ran back to Kantos' cage. He lay in the same position I had left him, apparently comatose.

Discovering the cage was unlocked – how after all could he escape? – I climbed in with him, squirming around awkwardly until his encrusted stump lay in the basin on my lap. I am no physician, but with a dearth of medical personnel on the planet, most Barsoomians possess fairly sophisticated first aid skills gained on the battlefield.

I thanked the stars he could feel nothing as I painstakingly cleaned the grime and poison from the wound, poured disinfectant over it, and applied healing ointment. With the knife I undercut and stretched the skin all around the wound, drew the edges together and stitched them as closely as I could. Slathering on more healing ointment, I wrapped the stump in a clean bandage and tied the ends.

Shaking with reaction, I slumped back against the bars. It was the best I could do. I hoped it would be enough.

"Tola," Kantos Kan said in a hoarse whisper.

I gasped, conscience-stricken. _Had he been awake all along_?

I had not been gentle – and he hadn't moved a muscle.

He didn't seem to know who I was and I suspected his resources were so depleted that his telepathic ability was subsumed by pain. I dared not tell him, either, for fear that if the infection spread and he became delirious, he might inadvertently reveal my identity. I crawled from the cage, stood on aching legs, and said in a small high voice, "I will return with food."

I dashed to my room, rummaged around in my pack, and ran to the kitchen. Once there, I begged the current cook for a mug of broth into which I poured a generous amount of analgesic and dissolved an entire block of dehydrated nutrient ~ sufficient nourishment for a day of arduous hiking. Kantos would need everything I could stuff into him to speed his healing.

He was so weak he could not pull himself upright. I crawled in behind him, raising his body by increments and trying not to jar his arm. When he was reasonably vertical, he leaned heavily against me, trying to drink the thick liquid. It was clear he was beyond hunger, having been given nothing but water for four days. I persuaded him to swallow most of it – hoping he wouldn't bring it up again. When he could drink no more I waited for awhile, enjoying the feel of him in my arms, until the analgesic took effect. Helping him to lie down, I backed out of the cage. As his pain receded, he began to relax in relief and finally closed his eyes.

I stood watching him long after he slept, and a melody drifted through my mind – the memory of the tune Lara had been humming as she applied dye to my skin. With it, came the words . . .

_This lovely lonely man _

_I've only known a day – _

_I look at him, and cannot look away._

Looking away that day was one of the hardest things I've ever done.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The recruit examinations began the next day.

Danalla was fixated on the sword. It's doubtful she even imagined there was any other way to fight and and that she had blotted from her mind the manner in which my mother had once defeated her. All her troops were required to fence well, but that was all. They received no training in any form of unarmed combat or self-defence, an oversight I believed would be the "jeddara's" downfall.

We were to fence round robin style, four days in succession. The last four winners would achieve the honour of advancement into the ranks of the jeddara's militia for immediate deployment

Those who lost every bout or were otherwise deemed unsuitable would be returned to their homes. The remaining recruits immediately commenced training to improve their skills.

I agonized about where to place myself. I did not wish to win advancement into the militia. I had no interest in fighting for Danalla's cause, and it would mean leaving Kantos when he needed me. I decided to try for middle ground, showing just enough skill to stay in for advanced training. You may wonder at my confidence. If I can defeat my mother, I can defeat anyone.

Inevitably I would have to deal with Danalla. Practice would be useful.

When the four days of round robins were over, I had contrived to place myself sixth. Training sessions would begin the next day. I still had no plan, except the vague idea that somehow I would have to overthrow Danalla.

On each of the four days of examinations, I visited Kantos to give him his energy meals. I watched with relief as he visibly grew stronger each day and there was no sign of further infection. I knew it wouldn't be long before he regained his lost mental abilities and recognized me.

After the placements were announced late on the fourth day, I had just given Kantos his daily meal when one of the officers approached. "You have done well, Dara. He looks much better. Soon one of us will be able to make use of him." I didn't like her smile and didn't need to read her mind to understand her meaning.

"He's mine," I said without thinking.

She snorted in amusement. "You're a recruit. You cannot choose."

"Then I will fight for him."

She raised an eyebrow. "Unheard of. It is not done."

Every inch the princess, I raised my chin and gave her a long level look. "Try me."

Taken aback by my imperious attitude, she stumbled slightly as she turned away. With a wide-eyed backward glance she stuttered, "W-we'll see about that!"

As I watched her hurry away, I heard a chuckle from the cage. "Well done," Kantos Kan remarked. "But do I have any say in the matter?"

As I turned toward him, I remembered what I had blurted out so unthinkingly. I hoped my blush didn't show through the dye.

"Unfortunately, no," I said. "Men are considered chattels here."

Relaxed against the bars, he nodded thoughtfully. "Then if I cannot choose, I shall hope you win the bout."

I stared at him, shocked, my mind churning. If he didn't know who I was, how could he be so – so –

"Fickle?"

Gasping aloud, I said, "You know!"

He grinned, tapping his forehead. "Hard to miss all that passion."

Stiff from long inactivity, he rose to his feet using his one good arm. When he stood erect his head brushed the top of the cage. He gave me a look so intense my knees nearly buckled, and reached through the bars to touch my short black hair. "Cara, what have you done?"

Befuddled by my conflicted feelings, I stammered, "I – well – I couldn't very come here with red hair, could I!"

"Why _did_ you come?"

I stared at him in bewilderment. "Why would I not? You needed help."

"No other woman would have come to my rescue or made such a sacrifice for me."

Deliberately misunderstanding him, I sniffed. "Hair grows back."

"That is not what I meant and you know it. You are risking your life – for me."

I couldn't say what he wanted to hear, and spoke with some heat, "I am well able to defend myself."

That most patient of men smiled at me tenderly. "I know," he said. "Issus! I've _seen_ what you can do! But you cannot take on all of them at once, or alone." His slid his hand down my arm and squeezed my hand. "My Princess, have a care. It may take nothing short of a revolution to bring down this madwoman. Tell me before you attempt anything?"

_My Princess! – _the words of a lover. Surely he had misspoken! Still in denial, confused and bedazzled, I could no longer bear to face him. I nodded blindly, spun on my heel, and ran to my room, where the the two words rang in my dreams the rest of the night.

. . . . .

My defiance was bound to have repercussions and when I entered the plaza for practice the next day I knew I was in trouble when all chatter ceased.

The recruiting officer I had confronted – her name was Wenda – seemed to have recovered her wits and ordered me forward. She glowered at me. "You have been insubordinate, Dara, and must be punished."

I said nothing, waiting.

"Jolah, here," she said, indicating one of the instructors, "desires the man. Since you say he is yours, she challenges you for him." Wenda smirked with the certainty that an instructor would surely defeat a raw recruit.

I considered prolonging the bout because I rather liked Jolah. She had treated us fairly and had better than average skill with the sword. It seemed a pity to humiliate her too soon.

But she also wanted Kantos Kan. I disarmed her with my third stroke.

Wenda thought it was a fluke, and demanded we start over.

The recruits ducked as Jolah's sword flew over their heads.

"Shall we begin again?" I asked politely, standing at rest with the sword tip on the ground.

Doubt had crept into the faces of both women. Wenda said, "I will do this, Jolah," and drew her own sword. I had never seen her fight and faced her with relish. I'm told that I always fence with a smile on my face, like my great-grandfather Jack. I was grinning now.

She was better than I expected, but after absorbing her style, I played with her shamelessly, shredding her tunic and finally slicing open her arm. I am not proud of it, having deluded myself into thinking a display of prowess would help me to rise more rapidly through the ranks of the sisterhood.

As Wenda stood before me, swordless and clutching her oozing arm, I said, "If anyone else wants the man, I'll be here for practice tomorrow," and walked away.

As I lay asleep in my bed in the early hours of the next morning, four guards arrested me, sitting on me when I struggled, and binding me hand and foot. Calling me a troublemaker, they dumped me unceremoniously into a dungeon-like cell in the pits below the palace.

My downfall had been the result of my own jealousy, arrogance and stupidity, and I would have plenty of time to ponder the lesson.

Lara had asked me if I was worthy of Kantos Kan. The answer was all too clear.

However, twenty-five hours of soul-searching while lying sleepless on a cold stone floor tends to focus the mind. I arrived at several stunning conclusions.

I loved Kantos Kan as much as he apparently loved me! I couldn't understand why I had denied it in the face of all the evidence.

In spite of my dishonour, I refused to give him up and would try to m_ake_ myself worthy of him.

And I could comfort myself with the fact that it still wasn't too late to correct all the blunders I had made.

I have never been capable of prolonged misery. All this logical reasoning lightened my mood and I looked forward with anticipation to what would come next. Even if it was only breakfast.

To my amazement, the guards released me.

But I was not _free_. Because of the "remarkable fencing skills" I had displayed, I had been promoted to the militia.

For immediate deployment.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Korad was as remote from the rest of civilization as any place imaginable. Billetted now with several dozen female soldiers of Danalla's militia, I was supposed to be under guard, but in the middle of the night even the guards slept, unable to comprehend why anyone would wish to escape. _I_ certainly didn't!

I did, however, need to see Kantos, and it was easy to creep silently among the bunks and simply walk out of the doorless room.

He was awake, sitting against the bars. Filled with trepidation, I sat behind him and leaned my head against his back.

"I love you," I said.

"I know," he said.

"I'm in trouble."

"I know that too. The cook who brought me dinner told me what happened."

"I've been a jealous fool."

He swung about to face me. "Cara, look at me."

Though I turned toward him,I was unable to meet his eyes. His hand came through the bars and raised my chin. When he touched me the whole dismal tale flowed into his mind and I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see the disappointment in his.

"Open your eyes, beloved."

I was stunned to see that he was grinning. He said, "I wish I had been there to see it! Could any man receive a greater gift than to have such a woman for a mate?"

Even with that, I needed to explain. "It was hard to – to think of someone else in your arms," I said, "when I've barely been there myself!"

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he cupped my face in his hand. "Cara," he said with steel in his voice, "this is war and I am a warrior. I will love and honour you alone. I promise you that _no one_ can touch me If I do not wish it."

His outward calm hid banked fires. I didn't envy the woman who tried to seduce him.

He added, "Whatever happens, we must accomplish it together. I have one good arm that can wield a sword as well as the other. The opportunity will come. We must be patient and stay alert for it."

After an exchange of sweet words and a lingering kiss or two between the bars, I floated back to my bunk, and slept in peace.

. . . . .

The next day I was constrained to go with a raiding party to Gathol – to kill my aunt Tara.

I couldn't imagine how they intended to do it. On family visits, Tarin and I and our cousins – Tara's children – had often played in the ancient castle that was their home. The place was a fortress with its own wall and huge barred gates.

But then I recalled that the place was filled with a warren of hidden passages and secret rooms where we played our childish war games. It occurred to me that if the women did find a way in, that knowledge might be useful . . .

The flight, several hours long, ended well past midnight when we landed just outside the castle walls where they adjoined those that ringed the city. The solution to entering the grounds was simple. Waiting until bright Thuria was up, we threw grappling hooks to the top of the 50 foot walls and scaled the battlements. While I had no difficulty climbing the rope with my inherited Earthly strength, some of the others were labouring hard by the time they reached the top. One women fell, breaking a leg.

I could think of at least six different ways that would have been easier, though no doubt more obvious. We could have landed in the garden (though it was admittedly smaller than ours at Kobol). Landed on the wall. Landed on the tower. Walked through the front door! Fortunately no one had asked _me_.

It was less arduous going down the other side of the wall but even my arms were quivering by the time we all reached the ground.

When everyone was down and accounted for – there were sixteen of us – we began creeping silently toward the palace. Lingering until I was last, I faded off into the darkness bound for the nearest secret passage, predictably hidden behind a false wall in a gazebo. After pressing a predictable knob, an equally predictable door slid aside. I slipped inside while the door, operating on a spring, slid closed behind me.

The tunnel, its dust undisturbed, smelled musty and clearly hadn't seen any use since we'd played there fifteen years before. By the light of a hand-held bulb I sprinted along its length, emerging in a utility room near the palace kitchen and, listening at the door, heard no sound. However as I emerged into the hall I ran full tilt into a guard doing his midnight rounds. I recognized him, and before he could even speak, I said, "Falan, I must see Tara or Gahan, now!"

"Of course you do," he said, as he grabbed my arm. "Just come this way."

_When will I learn! _ I thought ruefully, abruptly remembering I was in disguise. I had no time to argue with him, and rendered him unconscious as gently as I could, dragging him into the utility room. I ran to the common room – which was empty – and then to the royal bedroom where Tara and Gahan were asleep. Upon my precipitate entry, both sprang from their silks and furs to their feet, reaching for their weapons.

"I am Cara!" I said, stopping hastily and holding the bulb at arm's length to light my face. "Look at me! It is urgent!"

Her dagger pointed at my heart, Tara walked toward me in deep suspicion, which turned to doubt as she drew nearer. The picture of menace, the Jeddak of Gathol came up behind her, sword in hand.

"If you are Cara," she said, "tell me something only you and I would know."

As I sifted rapidly through my many memories of holidays in Gathol, I picked the first one that came to mind and slowly grinned. "Are you sure you want Gahan to hear about the time that Jeran (her grandson) and I borrowed your flyer and . . . "

Her eyes widened. "Stop!" she gasped, appalled, her eyes rolling meaningfully toward Gahan. "Cara – what are you doing here dressed like that?"

"Your garden at this moment is full of female assassins who mean to kill you – as they intend to kill all of us with Jasoomian blood. They are quick and efficient, and quite deadly. If you don't have enough guards in the palace, I suggest you – ah – disappear."

"Hide," she said in distaste.

"Precisely. And _now_." I said.

She glanced at Gahan, who shrugged. "The less loss of life the better," he commented, looking at his jeddara affectionately. "Especially yours."

I said, "I know a place you will be safe."

Before we could reach the utility room, we heard the clashing of swords at the entrance door. There wasn't time! I spun abruptly and grabbed their arms. "The tower, I whispered, dragging them with me to a ramp at the far end of the hall. The ramp spiralled upward three levels where it terminated in what appeared to be a small empty room in one the towers. I remembered once as a child feeling all about the window frame for a catch to open the window. Instead, a portion of wall had opened like a door.

It still worked. I urged Tara and Gathol to enter. When they had squeezed into the closet-like space and I closed the door upon them, I heard Tara say, "Where did this come from . . ?" while Gahan asked, "What was that about Jeran . . .?" I was sorry I hadn't thought of another incident. Tara would have difficulty explaining that one!

Already there was a sound of running feet pounding on the ramp below. I began running down and intercepted two women coming up.

"There's no one up there," I said, passing them, seemingly intent on my search.

"But – but how did you . . ?" one of them began.

I stopped impatiently. "How did I what?"

" . . . get here so quickly?"

I frowned at her. "What are you implying?"

She swallowed in alarm. "Uh . . . nothing!"

"Then I suggest you continue with your duty," I snapped, hurrying down the ramp to "search" each room on that level.

The sixteen of us gathered below the wall an hour later, unsuccessful in our hunt for Tara. When I noticed that several of the women were hurt, I hoped fervently that none of Gahan's guards had been seriously injured. We scaled the wall again and, much subdued, climbed aboard the flyer. With another failure on the part of her militia, I knew Danalla would be furious. I smiled in the darkness. I couldn't wait to hear what she'd have to say.

Hours later, when the sun popped up over the horizon, most of us were dozing uncomfortably on the deck. The long flight in the antiquated cargo flyer was nearly over when I heard someone exclaim with a gasp, "What's that?"

"What's what?" mumbled a sleepy voice.

"_Bodies_! There are bodies down there!"

At that everyone sat up. We were quite low over the ground – perhaps two hundred ads where the air was thicker. I peered out a tiny porthole but could see nothing unusual, but two or three others exclaimed in horror. The pilot, who had also seen, landed near a small crater.

They were, indeed, bodies – and every one of the six women lying there was familiar to us all.

Someone whispered. "They're the ones who failed the trials . . ."

Another wailed, "They were supposed to be taken home again!"

Still another, who had wandered farther along the rim of the crater, cried, "Oh, Issus! There are more here!" We found about twenty more bodies, some so desiccated in the dry Martian atmosphere that they were mummified.

The implications were staggering. And, I thought with very mixed feelings, fortuitous.

Every woman reacts to horror differently – some with gibbering terror, some with quiet weeping, some with shouts and anger. I waited until the lamenting subsided, and someone finally asked, "What are we to do?"

"We will do nothing!" I said urgently. "We will keep this terrible secret to ourselves."

"Why?" someone asked in disbelief.

"Because we are alive and we are in no danger – _unless this leaks out_! Why do you think those women are lying there dead?

There was no answer.

I said, "Because Danalla didn't want witnesses telling what they knew about her plans – which is also what _you_ know!"

Silently they absorbed the implications.

I asked quietly. "Do you see now what you've gotten yourselves into? Danalla is no jeddara. She is an assassin who seeks revenge for a defeat she suffered at the hands of Lara of Jasoom. She lured all of you into her net with her promises of ridding Barsoom of the 'Jasoomian Threat'. _What threat?_ Think of what John Carter alone has accomplished, exposing the false goddess Issus and her band of thugs, ridding Barsoom of the Ghasta menace, bringing peace and security to most of the planet's cities.

"Use your heads!" I exclaimed. "Danalla is insane. She cannot win, and she'll take you all down with her."

Thoughtful and quiet, they boarded the flyer.

I knew perfectly well that a secret of that magnitude had to be shared – which was exactly what I wanted.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

We were allowed to cleanse ourselves, attend to any wounds, and change our clothing before reporting for our debriefing. I washed perfunctorily and changed in haste, intending to visit Kantos before the audience with Danalla.

He was not in the cage.

I stood mute at its open door, thoughts roiling. Where was he? Had he escaped? Was he still alive? Had one of the women claimed him?

"Looking for the man, Dara?" asked a snide voice behind me. I swung about to confront Wenda.

"Where is he?" I demanded, refraining with a superhuman effort from grasping her throat and wringing the information from her.

She sneered. "Oh, you'll see, very soon . . . "

She walked toward the throne room without a backward glance. I followed, fists clenched.

The entire militia was gathered in the throne room when Danalla walked in . . . with Kantos Kan immediately behind her. He looked wonderful. He had bathed, had been provided with a clean tunic and harness (weaponless, of course), his arm was freshly bandaged, and he looked strong and self-assured.

She spoke: "My sisters, I want you all to meet one of the greatest warriors of Barsoom: Kantos Kan!"

The sisterhood murmured their amazement.

She searched through our faces until she spotted mine. I had the dubious distinction of receiving from her a triumphant smirk. It was clear she had been awaiting my return before making her announcement. I wondered how Danalla had discovered who he was, but then realized that inevitably some of these women must be from Helium. As one of that city's most acclaimed heroes, he would have been readily recognizable by most of its citizens.

Pointedly ignoring Danalla, Kantos appeared to be at his ease, but his eyes, alert and vigilent, roamed ceaselessly over the crowd, and I suspected his warrior's body was as tense as a coiled spring. In the brief moment that he met my eyes, he gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head before looking away. I didn't need to read his thoughts to understand that it was time for action. Whatever we attempted, I would have to be the instigator. I watched and listened closely, waiting for the moment..

Danalla continued, "He is to become my consort and together we will rule Barsoom!" As she said that, she glanced at him and I was struck by the odd expression on her face. _Doubt?_ I bit my lip hard, to prevent a smile. Did she doubt him? Herself? Or, perhaps, her own femininity? _Oh well done my love!_

When Danalla began to reprimand our raiding party for failing to kill Tara, my plans crystallized. Easing backward through the crowd, I slipped out of the throne room certain that Kantos was watching. I knew she would continue to rail at them, convinced that by repeating her ridiculous theories over and over about the Alien Menace she could drum it into their skulls. I hoped I had enough time.

I raced up the ramps to my quarters, grabbed two bottles of liquid from my pack, and hurried into the bathing room. While the tub filled, I shed my clothing, applied the liquids to my hair and body, and then plunged into the hot water. Dashing back to my room, I donned fresh clothing from the bottom of my pack, and ran down the ramps back to the throne room.

I stopped in the doorless entrance to the once-magnificent room, waiting. Danalla was still raving. It wasn't long before one of the women at the back exclaimed, "Oh, look! Who is that?"

Word spread quickly as it does among women. They turned toward me in astonishment, ignoring Danalla. When she finally realized she had lost her audience, she too focused on me and snapped her mouth shut.

I'd only had time to comb my unruly hair with my fingers. As it dried it fluffed out in a curly red mass all about my head. My skin was again the creamy tone of my Irish ancestors, and I wore my second-best ball gown (the best being ruined by Kantos' blood). Inexplicably, I had thrust the thing into my pack before leaving Kobol. The shimmering white confection fit my torso like a second skin, its transluscent panels flowing from my hips giving me a freedom of movement unmatched even by my leathers.

Kantos grinned in appreciation.

With all eyes upon me, I slowly walked the length of the huge room, bypassing the podium where Danalla stood dumbstruck. Stepping onto the platform, I approached Kantos until our bodies touched, setting off within us that emotional charge which, I swear, should have been visible. Sliding my arms around his torso, I gave my bemused warrior the most sensual embrace I could manage, and kissed him with the sort of abandoned passion normally confined to the bedroom. He responded with enthusiastic dedication, leaving us both shaken.

Such public displays are frowned upon on Barsoom, but these women had been long isolated from men and seemed to be enjoying the moment. Scandalized titters of amusement arose from them. _Good_, I thought – _we need their sympathy._

Wishing wistfully that we were alone somewhere – _anywhere_ but here – I teased him softly, "Are you ready, my Chieftain?" It was the first time since he had called me _my Princess _that I had addressed him thus_. _From time immemorial, the exchange of those words between men and women has signified eternal fidelity - the equivalent, on Earth, of marriage vows.

His arms tightened about me in acknowledgement of my commitment. "_Issus,_ Cara!", he breathed. "What man would not be, after that?" With a wicked grin, he said, "Bring on the banths!"

Danalla, finding her tongue at last, screeched, "Who are you? Get away from him!"

Reluctantly – _most_ reluctantly! – I backed away to face her.

Making certain my voice carried to everyone listening, I said in my most imperious manner, "I am Cara, daughter of Carthan and Lara; sister to Tarin, Jeddak of Kobol; great granddaughter of John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom. Who are you to order me away from my mate?"

Some of those in my own recruitment group gasped as they recognized me. I heard whispers of "Dara – it's Dara!"

As my identity spread, the murmuring from the onlookers increased.

Danalla, teetering on the edge of hysteria, visibly shook with fury. "No!" she screamed as her dreams of world domination tumbled down about her. "No! He is mine!"

She drew her sword. Unarmed and with no sword at hand, I raised my empty hands, waiting. When she charged at me, gasps of horror arose from every corner of the room. To charge an unarmed opponent with a naked sword simply isn't done.

Except by assassins.

I swivelled and kicked the sword from her hand, sending the panels of my gown flying.

She stood gaping at me, and then screamed at her personal guards, "Get her! Get her!"

We had arrived at the moment of truth. Knowing what they knew about the dead women in the wasteland, would any of them obey her?

They did. All six at once – loyal in spite of everything.

Moving fast, I disarmed one of them instantly by breaking her wrist with the edge of my hand, and with two solid kicks broke a knee and a shin bone of two more of them. Meantime, Kantos had leapt down from the platform with Danalla's sword in his good hand and was engaging two others.

The sixth came at me. It was Wenda, her mind no doubt filled with thoughts of vengeance after her humiliation at my hands. _Too bad_, I thought with a sigh. _Once is enough_. Darting in quickly after her first thrust, I rendered her unconscious with a single blow to her throat.

Kantos had already disabled one of his opponents and as I turned toward him, he ran his sword through the remaining woman's arm. Snatching her flying sword from the air, I ran to stand at his side, preparing to do battle with all comers.

Danalla, all but frothing at the mouth, shouted at her army to fight us. When no one came forward, she turned on us. "Then I'll do it myself!" She bent to pick up one of the several swords lying about.

"I'll take her," Kantos said.

"No, Love. She's mine," I said, raising my weapon.

"She's _mine_, Cara!" said a familiar voice. Startled I looked toward the doorway where Lara strode toward us, followed by Carthan. Crowding in behind them came what seemed to be half the armies of Barsoom – though it turned out to be only John Carter's elite militia that Lara had "borrowed for a few days".

Lara walked up to Danalla. "You wanted me, Danalla? Here I am."

If Danalla had been in her right mind, Lara might have prolonged the fight. But a mad woman no longer has any concept of fear or remorse. Within moments, my mother finished it mercifully with a sword-thrust through Danalla's heart


	8. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Along with innumerable other distinguished titles, Kantos Kan was Odwar of the Warlord's personal militia. Assuming control from the dwar in charge, he had Danalla's body disposed of, the injured cared for, and, under guard, had the women of Danalla's army collect their possessions. They were taken into custody and given quarters on the battleship on which his men had arrived. The big ship was slow, and I wondered what would result from that rather dynamic mix of virile warriors and female rebels.

I was relieved, then, when Kantos deemed it unnecessary to accompany his men, and offered to return to Kobol with me on my flyer. Our activities on the way home were of a personal nature – suffice it to say that the warship arrived before we did.

Because the women of Danalla's army had refrained in the end from obeying her unreasoning commands, we freed them, allowing them to go where they would and offered the use of our flyers for their transport. A few of them asked to stay in Kobol, saying they had no family and offered to prove themselves worthy of hire as guards. As one might have guessed, several asked to go to Helium.

The palace physician examined Kantos Kan's arm, stating that while it was not yet fully healed, it was well on the way. It took him an hour to painstakingly remove my careful stitches – a procedure that pained me more than it did Kantos!

When he had rested another week, I offered to take him back to Helium – though I had an altogether different destination in mind. When he noticed our flyer was off course, I said merely that I had an errand to accomplish first. He shrugged – content, he said, just to be with me.

I could no longer imagine life without him..

Kantos recognized the towers when the city came within sight. "Duhor? What is it you do here?"

"I'm . . . visiting a friend," I said, which was near enough.

As we approached the palace, a patrol ship drew near. When he hailed us, asking our business, I said. "I am Cara of Kobol and wish to see Vad Varo."

The pilot nodded. "Follow me."

Kantos commented that it had seemed too easy. I didn't tell him that Vad Varo had ordered all the members of Duhor's air patrol to memorize my name and appearance to avoid delay.

We landed on the roof of a large building adjacent to the palace which, Lara had told me, was Vad Varo's infirmary. As we disembarked, I removed a thickly wrapped package from the flyer's cooler, took Kantos' hand, and led him to the exit. We descended several ramps to the ground floor where an attendant, upon hearing my name, hurried into a nearby office. Within a moment Vad Varo appeared, already fastening the straps of an immaculate surgical robe.

"Cara! It's good to see you again. Kantos, are you ready?" When he noted Kantos' puzzled expression, he looked at me, asking in English, "You didn't tell him?"

I shook my head, smiling.

"Why not?"

"I wanted to surprise him . . ."

He raised an eyebrow at the two of us, still holding hands, and grinned. Taking the package I held out to him, Vad Varo turned to Kantos Kan and said, "My friend, I believe your lady would like you to have your arm back."

END


End file.
